


Goodbye To The Prince

by ograndebatata



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alan Rickman Tribute, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 21:30:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5759527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ograndebatata/pseuds/ograndebatata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five days after Voldemort's death, Harry Potter pays a last homage to Professor Severus Snape. A tribute to Alan Rickman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goodbye To The Prince

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time both in writing a Harry Potter fanfic and in writing a tribute. I hope you forgive me if this effort's result turns out to be subpar.

**Goodbye To The Prince**

_May 7_ _th_ _, 1998_

Harry James Potter, vanquisher of the Dark Lord Voldemort, and former student of the Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry, had never felt so odd or out of place in his life.

Granted, he'd felt he didn't fit in on various occasions. He'd felt that over all the years when Dudley ensured he wouldn't have friends at school, the first year at Hogwarts when he'd had to deal with the fact he was hailed as the vanquisher of the Dark Lord. He'd felt that during the second year when the students avoided him after he was thought to be the heir of the wizard Salazar Slytherin. He'd felt that during the fourth year when the other students thought he had cheated to be enter the Triwizard Tournament and given him the cold shoulder. He'd felt that during the fifth year when all of Hogwarts took the _Daily Prophet'_ s words for the truth and treated him as a dangerous lunatic. And more recently than all those he'd felt that when he, over the last five days, had had to deal with being the saviour of the Wizarding World, for real this time, as Lord Voldemort was, at long last, vanquished for good.

But in spite of it, he felt this one had to take the cake: him standing under a Dementor-induced cloudy sky, at the entrance of a small, rundown Muggle chapel at Cokeworth's cemetery, wearing an entirely black suit (actually entirely, from the shirt to the socks, with the shoes, trousers, jacket, overcoat and underwear in-between). It was all the stranger by the fact he recognized the town - the gloomy-looking hotel he and the Dursleys had stayed in for a night in their efforts to outrun the letter was in the suburbs - but even if he'd never been to the area, or if he had positive associations to make to the place, it wouldn't diminish the strangeness he felt at doing such a thing: waiting for the beginning of the funeral of a man he'd once hated more deeply than almost any other: Severus Tobias Snape.

A man who had played a role in the death of his parents, had made his life a living hell on every opportunity, had gotten one of his favourite teachers fired, and had killed one of the people Harry cared for the most. For almost a year, Harry had burned with the desire for revenge… only to have that snuffed out upon learning the truth, when Snape, after getting mortal wounds from Voldemort's pet snake, had given him memories that told his side of the story. Memories that said he had ultimately been even more alone than Harry, memories that told of the massive and constant risk he had put himself in out of love for Lily Evans' memory, memories that told how he had brought the Wizarding World's hatred on himself after an act of mercy to his last friend.

Harry knew he would have to sort out the particulars inside his own head at a later point. He knew somewhere within him that the fact Snape had done one big and ultimately good thing did not excuse all the needless nasty things he had done, such as poisoning Neville's toad or getting Professor Lupin fired, but he also knew that it was not fair that the good things Snape had done were forgotten. Without his help, Voldemort might still be alive, free to grow stronger until he possibly had the whole world in his grasp.

But he seemed to be one of the few people who recognized that.

"Only ten minutes to go."

Harry shook as if he'd snapped out of a dream, and turned his eyes to Ron, who stood beside him and was slipping his watch back into his own black overcoat's pocket. Harry noticed that for once, Hermione didn't give him a berating look.

Another odd thing to add to the mix. Any other day, Hermione wouldn't hesitate to tell Ron how inappropriate his behaviour was – looking at your watch when you were going to attend a funeral. But nothing about this was ordinary.

Harry hadn't been to any funeral for the first fifteen years of his life, but since then he'd been to more than he cared to count, most of which had taken place over the last days. All those had been full of people who genuinely mourned the deceased person, and had overwhelmingly positive things to remember about him or her.

But here? Here there were only six mourners: himself, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna. All of them looked dreadfully unusual in all-black Muggle suits – in Ron's and Neville's cases – or Muggle women trouser suits of the same colour – in Hermione's, Ginny's, and Luna's cases. As much as Harry was used to seeing them in their black Hogwarts robes, these outfits looked odd on them. Luna, in particular, managed to somehow look odder than ever, without her Spectrespecs, her necklace of butterbeer corks and her radish earrings.

Harry didn't know to which degree any of them was mourning Snape's passing, but all the same, they were the only ones who came. Not a single relative could be reached for attendance. Almost no one at the Hogwarts staff had spoken of attending, and the only ones who said they would have attended it otherwise – Professor McGonagall, Professor Slughorn, Kingsley, Hagrid, and Madam Pomfrey – were otherwise busy, the first two with having to stay at the hospital wing to recover from their own fight against Voldemort, the third with getting the Wizarding World back to some semblance of normalcy, the fourth doing what he could to help Kingsley preventing the Ministry of Magic from taking out its wrath on the surviving giants, and the fifth with making sure all the injured people she could help were recovering properly. None of the Slytherins that Snape had favoured over the years had said they would show up, and few had even replied to the letters Harry sent to them notifying them of the funeral.

Snape hadn't even been allowed to have a wizard funeral. All people who could have conducted it were either otherwise engaged or had refused to conduct the funeral of such a vile man. Not even Harry making sure to inform the Wizarding World of Snape's true nature within a day of the man's passing had done any good on that front. If not for the Muggle world, Snape might not have anything at all.

 _Blame Skeeter again._ Harry deadpanned inwardly, thinking of the article the horrid witch had written which painted Snape in the worst possible light, like everything she wrote about anyone. _And blame the fact Voldemort got so many people killed._

Perhaps if less people had died, there would be more attendants to Snape's funeral, but the Hogwarts Battle had claimed too many lives, just about everyone had people whose funerals they would attend rather than Snape's, and Skeeter having managed to tip the balance in favour of hatred toward the man had swayed most people away from attending the funeral.

_There's nothing worthy of respect for her._

He started clenching his fists at the thought. A moment later, Ginny's left hand covered his right one as well as it could. Harry relaxed his fingers to allow her hand to slip into his and looked into her eyes.

"Are you alright?" Ginny asked him.

Harry gave her hand a squeeze.

"No, I'm not," he replied. "But I didn't come here to be alright."

"I don't think anyone goes to funerals for that," Ron remarked, in an unusually serious tone.

Harry noticed how Ron's facial muscles stiffened at those words, and knew he was thinking of Fred's funeral, which all of them had attended only two days before. It had been devastating. Everyone had tears pouring out of their eyes, and the cloud cover had given way to actual rain, as if the whole world intended to show how shocking a loss it was. The fact that, after it, Ron and Ginny had actually made the effort of coming to this funeral meant more to Harry than he would ever be able to convey.

"If it is too difficult for you, you can leave," Hermione said. "We'll understand."

"Absolutely," Ron added with a nod so firm Harry got afraid he'd get a whiplash. "We promise we'll stay in your stead."

Harry didn't doubt that, and he wouldn't even if he hadn't seen the sentiment transparent in all their faces. But he couldn't put them through that.

"I've done my share of more difficult things," he stated. "And he may have been a bastard, but he was decent enough to own up to his mistakes and brave enough to risk his life every day. If nothing else I owe him this."

None of them said anything, but all of them looked him over as if to make sure he meant it, except for Luna, who somehow always seemed to know how everyone felt with just a glance at them. Harry stood as tall and firm as possible. He was thankful to all of them for being here, but this was his burden to bear, not theirs.

"That's very noble of you," Luna said.

Beside Luna, Neville gave him a supporting nod. Harry briefly smiled in gratefulness and admiration. If anything, the fact Neville had chosen to come was even more admirable than him coming here. Neville had borne the brunt of Snape's behavior even more so than Harry, and had much less debts to him. If there was a person Harry wouldn't blame for not coming here, it would be him. But he had come, because that was the kind of person he was.

At least with him Harry had realized that while Neville was alive.

He kept quiet, though. This wasn't a time for comments like that. And no one else said anything. Ginny removed her hand from his, but remained close by as if to hold his hand again, and all of them resumed their wait for the service's beginning.

But this time, their collective silence, but this time it only lasted a few moments before Ron said, in an utterly shocked tone: "Look!"

Harry followed Ron's finger and noticed three people approaching. Three people he knew well, but had not expected to see at such a place, much less with such a presentation.

_I have to be dreaming._

He deliberately blinked twice to make sure this wasn't induced by anything.

It wasn't.

Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, and Draco Malfoy were all walking toward the Cokeworth cemetery's chapel, wary and tense as if ready to flee at the first sign of danger, but at the same time moving resolutely toward their destination.

To say the least, it was a surprise. While Harry would admit to knowing little about Snape's relationship with the Malfoys, he had always doubted any of them gave him value beyond that one gave an useful object. As far as he knew, Lucius only viewed Snape as a potential supporter, Narcissa only viewed him as a means to keep her son safe, and Draco only viewed him as someone to award points to Slytherin and dock them from other houses. Harry had been so sure they wouldn't come to the funeral that he hadn't even sent any of them notifications of where it would be or when it would take place. But not only were they present, they were in Muggle clothes. Both Lucius and Draco were in black Muggle suits (the former looking particularly odd with long blond hair) and Narcissa Malfoy was in a black dress and matching overcoat that seemed out of the 1920s. Though Harry felt out of place, they looked as dislocated as a whale in the Sahara desert. Yet, they had not only come, but made an effort to find out when they'd have to pay Snape's last respects.

Harry might never like any of them, but he couldn't help a strange sense of respect.

Everyone else, however, just seemed shocked at seeing them here, except for Luna, who simply gave them one of her impassible looks, though she had to be as surprised as any of them. Ron had his fists clenched as though he might punch them soon, and Hermione had her hands on his right upper arm as if to hold him if he lashed out. Neville and Ginny both gave them cold looks.

The Malfoys kept approaching, even though their wary attitude strengthened as soon as they got close enough to see everyone's reactions. When they finally got to the chapel's entrance, they remained silent for what felt like an eternity, as Harry felt tension crackling in the air to the point he feared anyone would perform accidental magic.

At last, Lucius Malfoy cracked, but didn't break the ice. "Good morning."

He sounded civil, but Harry didn't find it in himself to return the feeling. He would not forget that Narcissa Malfoy had helped to make Voldemort's downfall possible, but he also wouldn't forget that the Malfoys had again managed to get out of trouble, as much as this time it did seem that the Wizarding World wouldn't look at their families the same way again.

"I hope we have arrived on time," Lucius Malfoy added, as if the silence was too painful to bear.

"You have," Harry replied.

"It should be obvious," Ron almost snapped with enough forcefulness for Narcissa Malfoy to flinch.

To the Malfoys' credit, they took it in stride, and even looked appropriately commiserate.

"We couldn't have known, Mr. Weasley," Lucius Malfoy said with utter calm. "We've never been to a Muggle funeral."

Ron glowered at them anyway, and then turned to Harry. "Want us to get them out of here?"

Harry looked at the others and saw that the 'us' was literal. All of them had their hands already halfway to the spots where their wands were concealed and their fingers swaying as if to hold them. For just a moment, Harry was tempted to say yes. This was being difficult enough without having to put up with the Malfoys. But he hadn't done this because it was easy.

"I don't mind them staying," Harry replied. "If nothing else, Professor Snape would be thankful to have them here, I hope." It was tough to be sure. It was one of the many things about Snape he would never know. Calling him 'Professor Snape' seemed even more difficult, but Harry had vowed to make the effort at least today. "But if any of you wants them to leave, feel free to work things out amongst yourselves."

He looked at Ginny as he said that. He wouldn't forget again that she had been possessed by Voldemort, or of whom was responsible for it.

Ginny's eyebrows narrowed as they always did when she was thinking. Everyone else's looks shifted to her.

"They can stay," she said.

After a few moments, Hermione and Luna nodded. Then, everyone dropped their hands, although Ron made it a point to glower at the Malfoys a second time, Hermione looked at Draco with a look as angry as the one she had when she slapped him and Luna sent them a cold stare Harry wouldn't have thought her capable of.

"Thank you," Draco said.

No one replied to that. As if sensing no one would say anything else, the Malfoys looked around as if searching for something - or someone. After a few moments, Harry noticed looks of genuine surprise seeping onto their faces.

"Where is everyone else?" Narcissa Malfoy asked.

As she hadn't been looking at him specifically, Harry kept quiet. He didn't know if he had the nerve to tell her the truth.

"There is no 'everyone else'," Luna replied in her serene voice.

The Malfoys now had looks of outright shock on their faces.

"Really?" Draco asked. Harry realized he too had hoped to see fellow Slytherins who Snape had favoured attending the funeral.

Luna gave him a single nod. "Really."

Ron looked like he was going to make a biting remark, but held himself back at the last moment. Narcissa Malfoy turned her head back as if she was trying to conceal tears, and Lucius Malfoy gulped several times. Draco stood still as a statue, as if the enormity of the fact Snape had been so disliked required physical effort to take in.

"I'm sorry," Harry offered.

"Don't be, Mr. Potter," Lucius Malfoy said in a clipped tone. "It's not your fault."

Something about the way he said that reminded Harry of Snape. He supposed it made sense, given their closeness and Lucius' seniority over him.

Thankfully, he was saved from replying by the sound of approaching footsteps. He turned toward them, and saw the vicar who would conduct the ceremony - a brown-haired and brown-eyed man who seemed to be thirty at most - exiting the chapel.

Like the Malfoys had done, he looked around as if to make sure there weren't more people than the ones he saw coming to attend. And if anything, he looked even more shocked than them at seeing so few people in attendance, to the point he seemed about to actually shake himself to get out of that state. He didn't shake himself, but when he turned to Harry he still seemed shocked.

"Shall we begin?" the vicar asked.

"I believe so," Harry pleased.

Again, the vicar seemed to need a few moments to process the information - Harry guessed he'd never conducted a funeral with so few people present - but this time he was much quicker to put himself together.

"Then please come in."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned around and walked into the chapel, Harry and Ginny following him in side by side, and the others walking after them.

* * *

As Harry had never been to a Muggle church or chapel, he couldn't have true standards for how big this one was, but it still seemed overwhelming for the occasion. While it didn't seem big per se, it had seats for at least a hundred people, and probably room for twenty or thirty more people if they stood up. With only nine attendants, it seemed vast and empty.

The fact there were so little things inside only added to the feeling. Other than the benches, there was only the altar, with a table covered in a white tablecloth on top of it, two pulpits beside the table, a crucifix and a tabernacle behind the table. And of course, the closed casket - the best Harry had been able to buy - resting between the altar and the benches.

At least the chapel had a decent amount of windows, and although the gloom outside wasn't ideal for light, it was enough for it to look radiant in comparison to Snape's office or potions classroom. Harry wondered if he would have derided it for being so much brighter than his existence or been happy for the fact he hoped to at least have more light after his death.

He walked until he was at the front pews, and then moved left. Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna followed him, while the Malfoys moved to the right pew. As he stood at the far end of the bench, Harry thought of how this division was akin to the fact that even during Snape's childhood the Slytherins had been the House everyone despised. They might have brought it upon them to a degree, but at the same time, maybe some things would have been different if it hadn't been like that. Harry again made a note to make sure that the Slytherin House's contribution wouldn't be forgotten.

The Vicar, standing in front of the coffin, looked at the door one last time as if to give a final chance to any late arrivals to step in. Harry looked behind as well; not even a fly came in. With a dejected look, the Vicar cleared his throat - a sound that seemed amplified even in such a small chapel - and began.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to say our last goodbyes to Severus Tobias Snape, a fellow brother of ours who has left this world at an age far too young for such a thing to be expected."

Harry had never been to a Muggle funeral of any religion, but it seemed to him that the vicar had readied very little beforehand. And as the sermon went on, the feeling only strengthened. The man clearly had no idea of who Snape had been or of the role he had played or of the conflicted feelings half of the people attending had toward him. He made references to God and Jesus which Harry could tell even Hermione didn't know, spoke of taking the time of a known person's death to think on the blessing that life was, said he would always live on as long as he wasn't forgotten, and said a number of other things that seemed to have nothing to do with the Snape Harry had known. The only positive thing he could say was that it somehow seemed better than Dumbledore's funeral with the tufty-haired wizard presiding. At least this vicar was being honest in his lack of personal knowledge about Snape, and made efforts to speak to whatever grief the attendants were witnessing.

Speaking for himself, Harry didn't know if he was feeling the right amount of anything. He felt sadness at the fact Snape had been so alone in life, he felt confused at the fact Snape had only used the best of himself specifically when it came to life or death matters, he felt pity that what good he had ended up doing hadn't even been enough for the world he lived in to grant him a funeral, he felt revolted at the fact Snape had allowed his bitterness to lead him to do so many petty things he didn't have to do at all, and he felt grateful that at least Snape had chosen to listen to the best part of himself and ultimately had favoured life in the previously mentioned life or death matters.

How he could feel all this without blowing up, Harry doubted he would ever know.

A glance beside him told him that Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna felt similarly. They looked appropriately serious, but none of them had any actual sadness. But they were looking at the priest, and making an effort to listen, it being most noticeable in Luna, who had no traces of her usual vague look.

Beyond them, the Malfoys seemed to be genuinely sad. By now, Narcissa Malfoy had silent tears running into a black handkerchief she occasionally used to dab at her face. Lucius Malfoy's throat again pulsed as if he was trying to force his grief down. And Draco occasionally rubbed at his eyes as if to keep tears from running out of them.

Harry recalled the fury pouring from Snape's eyes in the Pensieve, at the time he'd learned the only person he loved had died. He wondered how many tears Snape had wanted to shed at that time, and thought on how many other occasions in which Snape must have wanted to cry from everything he was enduring.

"And so, do not forget the mistakes he made, but do not forget his good deeds either," one of the vicar's sentences got through to him.

There was a long list of both. He'd docked two points from Gryffindor during Harry's first class with him. He'd prevented Quirrell from throwing him off of the Nimbus 2000. He'd docked points from Ron for defending his family's honour. He'd been the referee during Harry's second game to keep him safer. He'd tried to get him and Ron expelled. He'd gone to save them from the man he genuinely believed had betrayed Harry's parents (as wrong as the belief had been, Snape had believed it to be true). He'd wasted no time speaking poorly of Harry to Karkaroff and Madame Maxime. He'd re-joined the Death Eaters regardless of the danger to his own life. He'd ridiculed Harry in front of Umbridge. He'd warned the Order of the danger as soon as he could. He'd given Harry several Saturdays' worth of detention. He'd put an end to his only friend's suffering at said friend's request. He'd given the exact date of Harry's departure from the Dursleys to Voldemort. He'd spared Hogwarts from being at the mercy of the Carrows.

Both lists could have been longer. The point was the vicar was right.

"The Gospel according to John: _'_ _Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you._ _And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also._ _And whither I go ye know, and the way ye know.'_ _Thomas saith unto him, 'Lord, we know not whither thou goest; and how can we know the way?_ _ **'**_ _Jesus saith unto him, 'I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.'_ " The Vicar's eyes ran down the Bible's page, and he added, " _Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid._ "

Harry knew next to nothing of the Bible, but the general idea seemed fitting enough. He had learned enough about Snape to know that, more than anything, Snape had wanted a home. Hogwarts had given him a home. Harry had never 'gotten on the train' when he'd talked to Dumbledore, but he knew by definition that Heaven had to be better than Hogwarts. If he'd gone there, Snape would find a home.

"Thus, may our brother Snape find peace in the afterlife, and may those who miss him cope with their loss," the vicar said in a tone that suggested he was finished. "If anyone has any words to say, please step forth."

Harry froze. He had been expecting this moment - he had even been trying to think of what to say - but coming face to face with it was still difficult. While he could say without boasting he had faced worse difficulties, he could also say he wasn't eager to have more of them thrown at him. But it seemed he would have to. Everyone was looking at him to see what he would do, as if they didn't dare to do anything without his consent. So he made the sign of the cross, stepped behind one of the pulpits in front of the altar, and cleared his throat.

"First of all, I'd like to say I don't think I'm the best at public speeches, so I hope you'll all forgive me if I mess up," Harry began.

There was no general reaction to that, so he went on, "I've known Professor Snape for a long time, but I realized after he passed away that I never got to know him properly."

He took a deep breath. What was to come would be difficult on many fronts, but had to be said like this He didn't want to demean Snape, but he wouldn't be a hypocrite. "He wasn't a nice man, and he wasn't a good teacher, but he was without a doubt the bravest man I ever knew, and he had a great capacity to love, which ultimately lead him to be the best version of himself he knew how to be."

Harry dared to sneak a peek at the Malfoys, expecting to see them outraged. They weren't. Both Lucius and Narcissa were looking at him respectfully. Draco seemed nothing short of shocked.

"Also, I believe that in the end, the only thing Professor Snape wanted to find was peace. I'm sorry he never got to find it while he was alive. I hope he has found it by now."

Harry made a pause to allow his words to sink in, made the sign of the cross toward the crucifix a second time, and then moved back to his spot.

The vicar looked around as if to prompt anyone else to come forward. No one shifted or made any sort of gesture. The vicar looked like he wanted to shrug, but just as he started focusing on the church's door, Draco Malfoy moved from his spot (which elicited a fairly loud gasp from Ron and more muffled ones from Hermione, Neville, and Ginny), made the sign of the cross himself (in such a haphazard manner that Harry immediately realized he'd never done it before) and went to stand behind the same pulpit Harry had gone to.

At first, he looked more awkward than Harry had seen him before, as if he had more than half a mind to step down and not only go back to his parents but walk out of the Muggle chapel and get Obliviated to forget he had even been there. Then, he took a visible and theatrical-looking but at the same time somehow genuine breath.

"I'm even worse with words than Pot… than Harry," he began, looking like he was trying to keep his voice from quivering. "But I'd like to say that I'm sorry that I never learned to appreciate Professor Snape as he deserved, that I didn't always accept his kind gestures, and that I hope I will manage to learn from what he taught us in every possible way." A pause, during which he seemed to be trying to think of something to say. "And I'll miss him."

To his own amazement, Harry believed it.

Draco then made the sign of the cross again (this time less awkwardly) and walked back beside his parents. Harry thought there'd be no one else, but to his awe, and without any period's waiting, Luna stepped forward, made the sign of the cross herself, and walked behind the pulpit with confidence he knew neither he nor Malfoy had displayed. It was so unexpected that Harry had to make a conscious effort to keep his jaw from dropping.

Once she stood behind the pulpit, the confidence with which Luna spoke matched her gestures.

"I'd like to thank him for the good things he did," she said. "I know he wasn't nice, and he wasn't kind, and he did many nasty things, but I know he also did good ones. He forgave me after I snuck into his office, he tried to keep the fairest possible discipline at school, and did more for the good of everyone than many people can say they will ever do." She paused. "And wherever he is now, I hope he's resting in peace."

She then turned to the crucifix, made the sign of the cross, and walked back to her spot at Neville's right. The vicar looked around in a silent question as to whether anyone else would step forward to say anything. After no one else moved, he made a beckoning gesture at the chapel's door. The sound of several steps beating against the stone floor came from it, four gravediggers walking in to carry Snape's casket toward the hearse.

Once they were taking it there, with the vicar in tow, he left his spot and walked after the clergyman. The others followed him.

* * *

The hearse drove a relatively short distance from the chapel to the spot where Snape would be buried - about five hundred meters on flat ground. No trek through the wilderness, and certainly no walk through a maze full of dangerous creatures and unpredictable spells, but enough for Harry to see the kind of place Snape would have his eternal rest in.

To his relief, it didn't look as gloomy as he had expected it to when he recognized the town as the same he and the Dursleys had briefly visited so long ago that it might as well have been in another incarnation. Its walls were white and well kept, the tombstones, though mostly made of cheap marble, were clean, and hardly any weeds sprouted from the floor. Still, it seemed Snape would stand out in death amongst most of the other people buried here. The tombstone Harry had bought seemed of quite higher quality than all but two or three of those he could see, and although he had no X-Ray vision like Superman, he doubted many of the people buried here would be in caskets made of polished solid mahogany with gold-plated lining and handles. It was cheap by wizarding standards - he didn't need to make conversions from pound to galleons to know it had cost pocket change in comparison to the ones he'd paid for Fred's and Professor Lupin's funerals - but it was the best he had been able to buy without straying from Cokeworth, and expensive enough for the funeral agent Harry had tasked with the funeral to be gobsmacked, even before Harry had told him the kind of tombstone he wanted.

Harry wondered what the man would say if he'd seen the kind of funeral Snape had turned out to have. As it was, he'd gotten a sudden call saying that his mother had gone to the hospital from a heart attack and had rushed to London to see her, so he hadn't come to the funeral.

When Harry left the cemetery, he would make sure to ask how the lady was doing.

For now, he stood beside Snape's still empty grave with those who had come with him, as the gravediggers removed the casket from the hearse and set it down for burial. The vicar again opened his Bible, and again started reading verses Harry had never heard before, all of which related with asking God to protect Snape and save a place for him in Heaven. Not for the first time, Harry realized that he had no idea of Snape's thoughts on God or religion - whether Snape believed God existed or not, whether he blamed God for the hand he'd been dealt or realized that the hand he'd been dealt came down to God's decision to give free will to humankind. His only consolation was that, as he gazed at the Malfoys, he realized they were at the very least as puzzled as him.

This time, the vicar didn't go on for anywhere near as long as at the church. Though Harry didn't peek at his watch, he guessed the man had spoken for less than five minutes. When he ended, the gravediggers removed the casket's lid and folded the drapes inside for them to have one last look at Snape. The only ones not gasping at the sight were Ron, Hermione, Luna, and himself.

Simply having such a thought made his stomach twist, but Harry couldn't help but to think the live Snape had never looked so good. Like Dumbledore, he too seemed he might be asleep, but there were differences. Rather than being greasy, Snape's hair was as pristine as if it had just been washed, and although the dress robes Harry had bought for him to wear in death were also black - in spite of her reservations, Madam Malkin had ended up relenting after he harangued her enough - they were of far better quality than the Hogwarts ones or the ones that made him look like a bat. He had no idea if the real Snape would have liked to wear black in death - it was all guesswork based on how fast he'd put on the Hogwarts robes in the Pensieve memories - but he supposed it would fit - and as a precaution, he had made arrangements for the drapes inside the casket to be emerald-green and silver, like Slytherin's colours. And most of all, the snake bites on his neck were completely invisible. Though Harry had never seen a sleeping Snape, he guessed anyone who didn't know he was dead would almost expect him to get up at any time.

Eventually, the drapes were pulled over Snape's head again, and closed the casket.

"We commend to Almighty God and His Son Jesus Christ our brother Severus Snape, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in sure and certain hope of resurrection to eternal life through Our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen."

"Amen," everyone chorused, from Luna to Lucius Malfoy.

The gravediggers then moved Snape's casket toward the open grave. With a methodical precision that showed how routine it was, they lowered it toward the bottom of the hole, and then started covering it with dirt.

This time, there was no inevitable reality crashing onto him out of nowhere. Somehow, Harry had never doubted that Snape's death was real from the moment he had seen it happening. But as heard Narcissa Malfoy openly sobbing, presumably into her handkerchief, he realized that the opposite was true for her. He heard Lucius Malfoy whispering soothingly at her, too low for him to pick up the exact words.

When the gravediggers finished covering the hole, the tombstone Harry had bought was placed on top of it. It was a long and laborious process - he had definitely become far too used to being a wizard - but when the gravediggers were done, Harry saw that the tombstone had been laid with the same precision with which the roots were meant to be cut for the Shrinking Solution, with the words Harry had requested be engraved on it displayed for all to see.

_Severus Tobias Snape_

_January 9th, 1960 - May 2nd, 1998_

_A Brave Man Who Loved_

_Requiescat In Pace_

The vicar made the sign of the cross as if to bless Snape's afterlife, and then all of them stood in silence.

Harry risked a glance beside and behind. The Malfoys were looking at the tombstone with the same sense of respect Harry had felt when he saw them showing up in Muggle clothes. Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna contemplated the words with acceptance, but at least in Ron's case, it seemed there was just a flicker of disagreement.

Harry understood. Even to him, it was still surprising that he had written such words about Snape.

He returned his eyes to the words on the tombstone. Like with just about everything else about the funeral, Harry wasn't sure if this epitaph was right - the real Snape probably wouldn't have wanted one at all - but from what he had seen, it fit well enough. Of course, the ideal would be for Snape to not have an epitaph at all. The ideal would be for him, and everyone else who had died during the war, to have survived to rebuild their lives after Voldemort's defeat. Fred. Tonks. Lupin. Colin. Dobby. Dumbledore. Sirius. His parents. And hundreds of others.

But life wasn't fair, and magic could do nothing about this. The most they could do was rebuilt their lives as well as they could, try to not repeat the mistakes of the past, and keep fighting for evil to remain contained.

At least he could say honestly that his heart was considerably lighter. He still didn't know if he could ever forgive the bad side of Snape. But he knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that he would give his best efforts to make sure that both himself and the Wizarding World would remember Snape's good side.

Always.

**Author's Note:**

> In memory of Alan Rickman. Rest in peace.


End file.
